


Palingenesist

by TinyBat



Series: The Shadow Chronicle [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: AU, Canon Divergent, Gen, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 15:27:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2552483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinyBat/pseuds/TinyBat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Palingenesist: a person who believes in a doctrine of rebirth or transmigration of souls.</p>
<p>The origin of the true Dark Archer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Palingenesist

**Author's Note:**

  * For [always_a_queen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/always_a_queen/gifts).



> We all come into this world screaming. Screaming at the light, the noise, and the incredible pain of oxygen flooding our lungs for the first time. We scream because this is all we know how to do.
> 
> My name is Thomas Merlyn, I died in ash and dust, but when I arose, I rose up screaming. My blood flows with that of Lazarus, and my new purpose is to seek out and destroy any who would seek to topple the League of Assassins.
> 
> My first target is Oliver Queen, of Starling City. To get to him, I have to take out his friends. To kill them, I must be swift, I must be silent, and they must never see me. I have to become a part of the darkness that brought me back. I will fight them, and I will win.

At first, Tommy doesn’t know what to call it, naming the sensation would mean recalling it in more detail than the clouded, grey tinted flashes he can’t quite dignify as memories. He just knew that they burned, and that ache much like everything else, would pass.

When he first opened his eyes, he felt more pain than he could have ever imagined, more confusion than he’d ever thought possible, and a sickness deep in his stomach and coiling out through his whole body. Through the overwhelming barrage of sensations assaulting him, Tommy heard a soft voice.  
"The Head of the Demon sends his regards. I see that you’ve awakened in satisfactory condition." the voice says, and Tommy tries to shake his head and clear his vision to see the figure standing above him.

The motion making him dizzy, he rolled over and vomited. Bile, water, and blood cover the figure’s shoes but they seem unperturbed by it. If Tommy were in any position to feel shame, he would have apologized but the savage, blistering pain in his head, and lungs seemed to be taking up most of his attention.

He settled for an “Uhm?” gurgled out through bloodied lips, and squints, the figure coming in a little more sharply before. It was a woman, lovely, and dressed in a simple grey shift. She was peering down at him with an almost clinical air, still unbothered by the state of her shoes.

"You, child have been given a gift. One not often bestowed, and rarely spoken of. I trust that you’ll treat it as a boon, when you’ve regained all of your faculties." The woman said, kneeling down to press a cool hand to his forehead, soothing what felt like an axe wound to his skull.

Another attempt at speech presented an “ _Nnnn…_ ” and more vomiting. His stomach ached, and the violent pounding in his head was accompanied with stills of faces he should know, but couldn’t quite remember. 

"It can be a trying adjustment your first time, and it will be rather _unpleasant_ for you for some time after. The plans set forth aren’t my own, though I will play a part in ensuring that you will be of use in them.” Again, a cool hand soothed Tommy’s sweat soaked brow. he could finally sit up, and fervently wished that he hadn’t.

His stomach seemed to be the focus of the worst pain, and the movement agitated what felt like a barely healed scar. He brought a shaking, almost numb hand to his abdomen, confirming that there was indeed scar tissue. As soon as his fingers made contact, a floodgate in his head opened, and he remembered. The scream that burst forth from his lips was heartbroken, terrified, furious, and utterly despairing.

His name was Tommy Merlyn, and he had _nothing_ left. 

"For now, young Merlyn, your purpose will be to re-acclimate. After that, you will begin your training, and it starts with pain. The pain you’re feeling now will be nothing compared to what lies ahead. Your path forward will be one that forges you into steel. You will be broken down, beaten, tempered, and re-forged into a weapon. Welcome to the _League of Assassins_.”

The scream echoed out through the chamber and rang in the woman’s ears as she stood up. Tommy took a long breath, his lungs finally willing to take in oxygen comfortably, but his voice still not quite coming to him.

"You…" He asked, trying to quell the stream of half formed pictures, and murmurs in his head.

"I am Talia Al G’hul, Heir to the Demon. Soon, you’ll wish you’ll have never seen my face."


End file.
